


I Can't Give You My Soul

by xxDustNight88



Series: Dust Bunnies [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drinking, Explicit Language, F/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 16:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10416519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxDustNight88/pseuds/xxDustNight88
Summary: Reeling after finding out about Harry’s engagement, can Pansy refuse his offer and get back her soul?





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I found this alternate version of one of my favorite songs and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. It started as an aesthetic, but it kept nagging until I wrote out what was in my head. And…sure I have another fic based on this song, but it’s just so damn good I couldn’t help myself. Anyway, hope you like it! xxDustNight
> 
> Song Recommendation: “Somebody Else” cover by VERITE  
> Prompt: Engagement Ring. Denial. Announcement. "I’m burning bridges. I hope you’re standing on one when I do." (courtesy of starrnobella)

Sitting on her barstool at the Leaky Cauldron, Pansy Parkinson sipped on her simmering martini as she contemplated exactly how much she hated her life at the moment. Next to her, Hermione Granger was prattling on about some insipid legislation she was trying to implement at the Ministry. Like she gave a flying fuck. Okay, maybe that was a bit harsh…Hermione wasn’t _that_ bad. Rolling her dark eyes, Pansy had to admit her foul temper was entirely unrelated to her bushy-haired friend. No, that would be her ex-boyfriend’s fault—well, his and his new _fiancée’s_ fault.

Exhaling heavily, Pansy swiveled her barstool to face Hermione, who stopped talking abruptly at the pinched look on her friend’s face. “What?” she questioned, hands coming to rest in her lap now that she was no longer using them to enhance whatever she was explaining. “What’s wrong?”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Pansy wasn’t really sure where to begin; after all, her ex was one of Hermione’s best friends. Deciding to crack the cauldron, she asked, “I’m assuming you heard the big announcement that was in all the papers this morning?” As her friend’s eyes went wide and her face flushed with obvious discomfort, Pansy gestured to the barkeep to get them another round.

“Pansy…Look, I’m sorry I didn’t warn you ahead of time,” Hermione admitted, biting her lip. As a fresh martini was placed in front of her, she continued, “I didn’t really know how to bring it up, so I never did. I thought he was going to wait a few more weeks at least.”

Snorting in a most undignified way, Pansy plastered a fake smile onto her face. “It’s fine, I guess. I wondered if you’d known beforehand. I guess this answers my question.” Reaching for her new martini, she blew some of the magical smoke away from the surface before taking a sip. “ _I’m_ fine,” she practically growled as the cool liquid fed her inner fire. When she received nothing in reply, she glanced at Hermione out of the corner of her eye only to find the Gryffindor fixing her with a most sympathetic look. “Oh no!” she exclaimed, setting her glass down with a bit more force than necessary, causing some of the dark liquid to splash over the rim. “Don’t give me your _pity,_ Granger.”

Reaching for a napkin to wipe away the spilled drink from Pansy’s heavy-handedness, Hermione tried to repair the situation. “I’m not pitying you, Pansy, and don’t call me Granger. We’ve been friends for nearly ten years now—”

“Far too long—”

“And there’s no reason for you to lie to me after everything we’ve been through,” Hermione finished, ignoring her interruption completely.

“You got me out of a marriage betrothal with _Pucey_ ; I don’t think that’s exactly a reason for us to become such great mates,” Pansy tried to play off their friendship, crossing her arms over her heaving chest. Groaning, she added, “And then _you_ go and fall in love with him. _Yuck_.” She stuck out her tongue for effect.

“Stop being so difficult,” the brunette laughed, reaching out to jab Pansy in the shoulder. Sighing, Hermione couldn’t help the silly grin from sneaking onto her face. “And falling in love with Adrian was the best thing that ever happened to me. I can only thank you for that, my friend. I’m just sorry things didn’t work out between you and Harry like I’d hoped.”

Ah. There it was.

The pinched look returned to Pansy’s face at the mention of her ex’s name.

Harry _sodding_ Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The Man Who Stole Her _Fucking_ Heart…and then tore it to shreds when he decided she was no longer what he wanted. Twat.

Glaring at Hermione without blinking, Pansy downed the entirety of her drink before slapping down a few galleons to cover the cost of their tab. Okay, so maybe most of the drinks were hers; but still, she was the one who asked Hermione to join her tonight so she wouldn’t have to drink alone. The noise of the pub was no longer something she could handle, the happy banter grating on her nerves. Grabbing for her cloak, she made to leave, but Hermione stopped her.

“Whoa! Where are you going?!” Frantically, Hermione gathered her own cloak before allowing Pansy to lead them outside into the chilly October air. “You brought up the announcement, so I thought it was okay to talk about him.”

Riffling through her pockets, Pansy didn’t respond until she’d found her cigarettes, brought one to her lips, and lit the damn thing. Inhaling, she fixed Hermione with a contemplative stare and then held the toxic smoke inside her lungs for a good four seconds before exhaling. “Look,” she began, her tongue coming out to wet her lips, “I’m over him, seriously, but I don’t like to think about him with somebody else.”

Hermione opened her mouth to say something but promptly shut it again, instead choosing to rake a hand through her wild mane of hair. Pansy waited patiently for her to speak, knowing exactly what was coming. They’d had conversations similar to this before, and they always ended the same way. Pansy saying things she regretted, but it didn’t change anything. She was in denial; she wasn’t an idiot. She could say she was over Harry fucking Potter all she fucking wanted, but that didn’t make it true. And it most certainly didn’t mean she wanted to hear that coming from her best friend either.

Blowing smoke rings into the night air, Pansy unwillingly admitted her feelings, “I’m a fucking wreck, Hermione. I’m fully aware that what Harry and I had wasn’t meant to be, but it still burns me to see him so besotted with the Weaselette.” She swallowed, hard, the words leaving a bad taste in her mouth so she sucked on her cigarette to try and make it go away.

Sighing heavily, Hermione used her hand to wave the smoke out of her face. “I know…and I never expected him to get with someone as quickly as he did after calling it quits with you.” Checking her watch, the bushy-haired witch frowned. “Are you going to be alright getting home? Adrian and the kids will be waiting on me.”

“Go on then,” Pansy muttered. “You know me…I’ll be fine.”

Quirking her head, Hermione looked as if she wanted to object, but then she smiled. Stepping forward, she tugged the raven-haired witch into her arms for a quick hug, ignoring the way Pansy tried to squirm out of her grasp. “I know, and that’s why I love you. Now go home and go to bed; tomorrow will be better.” With one last squeeze, Hermione stepped back and _apparated_ away.

Staring at the spot her friend had just vanished from, Pansy contemplated whether or not she should go back inside for another drink. Finishing with her cigarette, and knowing only bad could come from staying out alone, she dropped the stub to the ground and used the heel of her boot to put the damn thing out. Rubbing her hands together for warmth, Pansy took a few deep, even breaths to calm herself and clear her mind before vanishing herself.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Standing outside the clothing shop she owned in Diagon Alley, Pansy flicked the cigarette she held to get rid of the ash that accumulated. It was a dreary sort of day—absolutely perfect for her mood, in her opinion. Just that morning the _Prophet_ felt it necessary to publish a spread detailing everything about the upcoming ‘wedding of the year’. A _three page_ spread detailing everything from flower selection to cake flavors. It was nauseating.

The real kicker though—the large picture, dead center, featuring Harry and the red-headed annoyance flaunting her obnoxiously tacky engagement ring. Pulling her robes tighter around her, Pansy glared at passersby as she thought about how _no one_ really needed to see all of that. Did the wizarding world truly need to know all the dull details of the wedding? She certainly didn’t need to, that was for sure. It was bad enough she had Hermione occasionally mentioning the stupid affair seeing as she was asked to be the matron of honor.

Throwing her cigarette into the rain, Pansy tried to shove her thoughts away. She was supposed to be getting over it, but she _hated_ thinking about him with somebody else. It was maddening, watching him get his happily ever after all while she was sitting on the sidelines completely miserable. Moreover, it wasn’t fair—they’d never really had a chance at happiness together. With the pressure from his friends, Hermione excluded, the reporters, and just about everyone in the wizarding world to stay away from a Slytherin girl, it was all but impossible to be content.

And _fuck_ , they were never, _ever_ alone! There was always a fucking Weasley popping up uninvited or calling him on his stupid Muggle mobile device. It was like the entire red-headed clan conspired against them from the very beginning. It was no surprise he ended up with the Weaselette, but that didn’t stop it from hurting. Leaning against the brick exterior of her shop, Pansy lit another cigarette, ignoring the voice inside her head that sounded annoyingly like Hermione telling her to stop chain smoking. If she never saw his face again, it would be too soon.

“Can I bum one of those from you,” a familiar voice asked, causing her to choke.

Sputtering, Pansy turned her wide-eyed stare to observe the man next to her. _Speak of the devil,_ she thought, wordlessly offering Harry _fucking_ Potter one of her last few cigarettes. She watched in stunned silence as he nodded in thanks before placing it between his lips and lighting it with the tip of his wand. His muttered ‘thanks’ was lost on her as she fought the temptation to kick him in the shin. How dare he just show up here and act all nonchalant like nothing was wrong?! Didn’t he realize how much she hated him? She ought to curse him right now; in fact, her wand hand twitched just thinking about it.

Grinding her teeth together, and taking another long draw of her own cigarette, she decided a stint in Azkaban wasn’t really worth it. “What the fuck are you doing here, Potter?” She went for cool indifference rather than violence. Wouldn’t Hermione be proud?

“Having a smoke on my lunch break, same as you,” he replied with a smirk that made her want to punch him in the face. With a flash of a smile he turned and rested against the wall as she had been doing. “Something wrong?”

Her mouth popped open but she quickly snapped it shut, refusing to appear anything but calm. “I don’t remember asking anyone to join me.” She hated that she found it nearly impossible to tear her eyes away from him, enjoying seeing him in person after almost a year apart. “Especially not you, Potter.”

“Ah,” he said as he exhaled, the tendrils of smoke snaking their way above their heads before dispersing into the drizzle. “I thought I should probably come and talk to you, apologize even, about pretty much blindsiding you with this whole thing.” He gestured between them, wetting his lips as he did so.

“Blindsiding me?” Her dark eyebrows shot upward, disappearing underneath her fringe. What an utterly ridiculous thing for him to say? “I don’t have a sodding clue what you’re talking about, so I suggest you just get the hell out of here before I lose my temper.”

Running a hand through his already tousled hair, Harry pushed away from the wall and moved to stand in front of Pansy. “Come on, Pans,” he tried again, stepping forward so his body was mere breaths from her own. “Don’t be like that.”

She felt her breathing speed up as a million thoughts ran through her head. Memories of heated kisses, touches, and more flashed through her mind as he reached up to thread fingers through her hair. Was he going to kiss her? Did she even _want_ him to kiss her? No! Absolutely not!

“Step back now, Potter, or I’ll hex the shit out of you,” she threatened with a growl, narrowing her eyes dangerously. “I don’t want you anywhere _near_ me, let alone _touching_ my body.”

Backing away slightly, Harry held up his hands in surrender as a reluctant smile pulled at his lips. She could tell he was trying to rein in his disappointment, but fuck that—she could care less if he was disappointed. She was the one he’d thrown aside for that red-headed she-bitch. He had no right to come here and play all innocent like nothing was wrong. It was infuriating! Clearing her throat before taking another drag on her cigarette, she decided to get to the end of this impromptu visit from her ex.

“Why are you even here, Potter? Don’t you have a _wedding_ to plan?” Eloquently lifting one eyebrow, she waited somewhat impatiently for his answer. It was almost comical the way he floundered at her bluntness, but that’s how she’d always been with Harry. She was expecting nothing but lies to tumble from her ex lover’s lips, so she was taken aback at what he next revealed.

“I miss you, Pansy,” Harry admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. His cigarette was trapped between the lips she still remembered the taste of, and it almost made her want to reach out steal it like she used to. Almost. Oblivious to her inner turmoil, he continued, “I want to offer you a deal of sorts…it’s something I hear most Purebloods take part in.”

Swallowing thickly, Pansy felt her stomach roll, already knowing in the back of her mind what the answer to her next question would be. “And what is that?” She felt her body grow cold, colder than the current weather called for.

“I think you know, Pansy,” he murmured, stepping close to her once more. He discarded his cigarette and brought his lips so very close to her own. When she didn’t immediate pull away, he smiled brightly and tipped his head to trail feather light kisses along the column of her neck.

Pansy shuddered, but not in arousal—she was _disgusted_ with his behavior. How _dare_ he assume she wanted to be his mistress?! That she pined after him so desperately that she would want to degrade herself in such a way?! She was Pansy Parkinson! She was better than that!

“Don’t you want to be with me? Don’t you—” He never got the chance to finish that question as Pansy used all her pent up rage to forcefully shove him away from her smaller frame. They tumbled away from the building and into the middle of the street where Pansy grabbed hold of the front of his robes to yank his face closer to hers so he could properly hear her over the distractions Diagon Alley provided.

“I can’t give you my soul, Harry,” she whispered as the drizzle turned to rain, soaking through her robes as she relented her grip and took a step backward. But when he made the reach for her again, she got angry, words tearing from her mouth without caring who heard in the crowded street. “Maybe I could have before, but you discarded me like yesterday’s newspaper, and for what? So the Weasleys wouldn’t disown you? So the bloody wizarding world wouldn’t call you a traitor? You’re engaged to marry Ginny _fucking_ Weasley, and you want me to just give myself to you? Like nothing ever happened? No, _fuck_ that—I can’t give you my soul.”

“What—” Harry’s head whipped around as if hoping no one heard her outburst, but there was bound to be someone who heard it regardless. Pansy hoped they did. Let _this_ make the papers rather than what kind of honeymoon the newlyweds would be partaking in. Lifting her brows, she waited for him to attempt and dig himself out of this hole. “I’m trying here, Pansy,” he practically whined. “I’m offering you everything…Don’t you see I’m trying to bridge the distance that’s formed between us?”

Oh no. _Fuck that._

Coolly meeting Harry’s gaze, Pansy flicked the remainder of her cigarette, allowing it to land at his feet before speaking. “I’m burning bridges,” she stated with a sneer, shaking the damp, dark hair from her face. “I hope you’re standing on one when I do.” Then, smirking, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the throng of midday foot traffic, flashing Harry a particular finger the entire way.


End file.
